Seriously, there are the kinds of shoots where everything comes together and feels good; the kids are comfortable, the parents seem as relaxed as parents can be on photo shoot day (I have been a parent on photo shoot day as well, I know how it can be!). And, even better: the family is willing to be themselves, shoot at their house, actually have fun (what? fun!).

Enter the kiddy pool, the sweetest 2-year old on a scooter I have ever seen, and a little girl who really wanted to show me her choreographed dance to the Frozen song "For the First TIme in Forever." (Not to mention one of the most laid-back 9-month olds I've seen.)

ABOUT 13 LUCKY DAYS

I'll take 13 photographs (or maybe a handful more) each day for 13 days and share them here. For me, shooting is about being present and passionate and grateful of even the smallest of details: a quirky pouted lip, the sweetest flyaway caught in someone's lipgloss. I'll also share a few words about each photo, a little story. And so, on to shooting for 13 days, on to sharing, on to feeling more present and thankful. These are lucky days indeed.

I'm glad you're here, and I hope you'll check out the previous 12 days! This is the last one for now...

DAY 12: Don't You Know How to fly a Kite?

You think it might be a good idea, and every spring, you do it. Wind whips your hair, you see an open field, you buy a too-expensive kite because last year's blew away and got all tangled in a gnarly tree.

Why do the kites keep getting more expensive, or is it just your taste?

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We bought a kite with a frog on it. Daddy was at work. A field of ball players was behind us, probably measuring us up: two kids under 5 and a mama with sandals on, is this gonna work?

I tried to teach you how to hold the kite up high, you kept stepping on the tails. When I said, "let go! let go!" you just kept running and holding on, tripping again on the long kite tails. I hate it when my voice gets too crazy and pointed. But, "let go, India, let go!!!"

And when you did, it rose up on the first try. I had to keep running and unravelling in the hopes that it would soar high enough to meet bigger gusts of wind. You thought I was running away from you and wouldn't let you hold the string. You yelled at me. I yelled back against the wind. Baby was just running after all of us and squealing with glee.

We tried again and again, but the wind had died down, that unpredictable spring weather. We kept running, my camera banging against my hip. Again. Again. "Let go! Let go!"

And then, "Don't you know how to fly a kit, Mama?"

I explained it simply: the only way to do anything was to try again and again and learn to do it better, but we were relying on the wind. We needed the wind to pick up. And so we kept trying. We sat down in the spongy grass. We waited more. Baby found a soccer net and sat down inside: she smiled, was pleased with her little discovery.

And then, we waited long enough. The wind picked up, we righted ourselves, you held the kite and let go when I said. I ran and ran and ran, unravelled the string. I handed you the string when it was time, and you flew the kite for a while, smiling and squinting up. Baby stood beside you. Perfect.

ABOUT 13 LUCKY DAYS

I'll take 13 photographs (or maybe a handful more) each day for 13 days and share them here. For me, shooting is about being present and passionate and grateful of even the smallest of details: a quirky pouted lip, the sweetest flyaway caught in someone's lipgloss. I'll also share a few words about each photo, a little story. And so, on to shooting for 13 days, on to sharing, on to feeling more present and thankful. These are lucky days indeed.

I'm glad you're here, and I hope you'll come back and see tomorrow's post...

Day 12: Just Imagine

"Just imagine becoming the way you used to be as a very young child, before you understood the meaning of any word, before opinions took over your mind. The real you is loving, joyful, and free. The real you is just like a flower, just like the wind, just like the ocean, just like the sun." -Miguel Angel Ruiz

ABOUT 13 LUCKY DAYS

I'll take 13 photographs (or maybe a handful more) each day for 13 days and share them here. For me, shooting is about being present and passionate and grateful of even the smallest of details: a quirky pouted lip, the sweetest flyaway caught in someone's lipgloss. I'll also share a few words about each photo, a little story. And so, on to shooting for 13 days, on to sharing, on to feeling more present and thankful. These are lucky days indeed.

I'm glad you're here, and I hope you'll come back and see tomorrow's post...

Day 10: My Texas Lovelies

India and Faye's cousins. Taken in Texas. They are lovely and fun, and the most special thing is to see all of my little girlies playing together.

ABOUT 13 LUCKY DAYS

I'll take 13 photographs (or maybe a handful more) each day for 13 days and share them here. For me, shooting is about being present and passionate and grateful of even the smallest of details: a quirky pouted lip, the sweetest flyaway caught in someone's lipgloss. I'll also share a few words about each photo, a little story. And so, on to shooting for 13 days, on to sharing, on to feeling more present and thankful. These are lucky days indeed.

I'm glad you're here, and I hope you'll come back and see tomorrow's post...

Day 10: The Shell Collector

Oh my. In Galveston, TX. With her cousins and aunt and uncle. Couldn't stop collecting shells…everyone was joining in. "India, found one!" and then she'd debate on that shell's merit, whether it was worth keeping and taking home in her little plastic baggie. Sometimes, though, the world has a way of making things more memorable, because it just so happens that we went to a nice big lunch after the beach and left the baggie of beautiful, hand-picked shells on the table and a busser threw them in the trash (that's what I think happened…the restaurant staff couldn't find them anywhere). And so.

Luckily, Galveston has a nice big shell and trinket shop, and it was on our way home. Only one little crumply-faced look about her lost shells--she perked up once we said that we could go shopping!

ABOUT 13 LUCKY DAYS

I'll take 13 photographs (or maybe a handful more) each day for 13 days and share them here. For me, shooting is about being present and passionate and grateful of even the smallest of details: a quirky pouted lip, the sweetest flyaway caught in someone's lipgloss. I'll also share a few words about each photo, a little story. And so, on to shooting for 13 days, on to sharing, on to feeling more present and thankful. These are lucky days indeed.

I'm glad you're here, and I hope you'll come back and see tomorrow's post...

DAY 6: CONVERTIBLE HAIR

Just pulled up from work, girls were shrieking, "Daddy!" with bare feet and wide eyes. Our day definitely gets better when he comes home.

My little India is growing up, learning where she starts and ends, where other people begin, and how to navigate her person. She is a talker, has never filtered her thoughts, and so her vulnerability is often just lying there for me to see--like a blanket left crumpled on the floor. It's a scary and beautiful thing to see, and, really, an honor to capture it on camera.

And, so, I thought I'd blog the images that went along with this image, which originally appeared over at The Chorus (the theme was "Thank You"). I highly recommend you check out both The Chorus and Amy Grace, who is it's passionate curator. You can also read the short piece I wrote to accompany these images below.

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Yesterday, in Target, like a beggar pulling a gem out of his pocket, you surprised me with, “Mama, will I get married someday?” “If you want to get married, you will,” I say. “Who will I marry?” you say. “Someone you like,” I say, and raise my eyebrows. I smile. You smile. You giggle your four-year old giggle, the kind that can’t be faked or contained. “I want to marry a funny guy who tells funny jokes,” you say, and I’m proud. Through the animated haze of childhood, you’ve managed to locate the core of a good relationship–friendship, laughter. And then, as quick as you laughed, your eyes well up and your mouth turns down. “I want to marry daddy,” you muster. One tear drops over onto your cheek. You know it can’t happen. I say, “That would be awesome,” and smile. When we get home, your wheels have turned, and you’re now triumphant. “I don’t have to marry daddy. I can be daddy!” You insist on trying on his jeans. At first, you’re thrilled. Big smiles, you’re just like daddy. You shrug your shoulders and seem refreshed; you stick out your chin and giggle. Later, you’ll cry about it. Daddy’s jeans don’t fit, and you trip over the deflated elephant-trunk legs and bang your elbow pretty good. I console you, pat your back, change you back into your own clothes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you say, once you’re back to feeling alright. “Well,” I say. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re you, and I’m glad daddy’s daddy.” “Ok,” you say, “I think I’m glad, too.”